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Suddenly out of his delightfull dreame

The man awoke, and would have questiond more;
But he would not endure that wofull theame
For to dilate at large, but urged sore,
With percing wordes and pittifull implore,
Him hasty to arise: as one affright
With hellish feends, or furies mad uprore,
H⚫ then uprose, inflamd with fell despight,

And called for his armes; for he would algates fight:

They bene ybrought; he quickly does him dight,
And lightly mounted passeth on his way;
Ne ladies loves, ne sweete entreaties, might
Appease his heat, or hastie passage stay;
For he has vowd to beene avengd that day
(That day itselfe him seemed all too long)
On him, that did Pyrochles deare dismay:
So proudly pricketh on his courser strong, [wrong.
And Atin ay him pricks with spurs of shame and

CANTO VI.

Guyon is of immodest merth
Led into loose desyre;
Fights with Cymochles, whiles his bro-
ther burnes in furious fyre.

A HARDER lesson to learne continence
In ioyous pleasure then in grievous paine:
Por sweetnesse doth allure the weaker sence
So strongly, that uneathes it can refraine
From that which feeble nature covets faine:
But griefe and wrath, that be her enemies
And foes of life, she better can restraine:
Yet Vertue vauntes in both her victories;
And Guyon in them all shewes goodly maysteries.

Whom bold Cymochles traveiling to finde,
With cruell purpose bent to wreake on him
The wrath which Atin kindled in his mind,
Came to a river, by whose utmost brim
Wayting to passe he saw whereas did swim
Along the shore, as swift as glaunce of eye,
A litle gondelay, bedecked trim

With boughes and arbours woven cunningly,
That like a litle forrest seemed outwardly.

And therein sate a lady fresh and fayre,
Making sweete solace to herselfe alone:
Sometimes she song as lowd as larke in ayre,
Sometimes she laught, that nigh her breath was gone;
Yet was there not with her else any one,
That to her might move cause of meriment:
Matter of merth enough, though there were none,
She could devise; and thousand waies invent
To feede her foolish humour and vaine iolliment,

Which when far off Cymochles heard and saw,
He lowdly cald to such as were abord
The little barke unto the shore to draw,
And him to ferry over that deepe ford.
The merry mariner unto his word

Soone hea kned, and her painted bote streightway
Turnd to the shore, where that same warlike lord
She in receiv'd; but Atin by no way

She would admit, albe the knight her much did pray. VOL. III.

Eftsoones her shallow ship away did slide,
More swift then swallow sheres the liquid skye,
Withouten oare or pilot it to guide,

Or winged canvas with the wind to fly:
Onely she turnd a pin, and by and by
It cut away upon the yielding wave,
(Ne cared she her course for to apply)
For it was taught the way which she would have,
And both from rocks and flats itselfe could wisely save.

And all the way the wanton damsell found
New merth her passenger to entertaine;
For she in pleasaunt purpose did abound,
And greatly ioyed merry tales to fayne,
Of which a store-house did with her remaine;
Yet seemed, nothing well they her became :
For all her wordes she drownd with laughter vaine,
And wanted grace in utt'ring of the same,
That turned all her pleasance to a scoffing game.
And other whiles vaine toyes she would devize,
As her fan'asticke wit did most delight:
Sometimes her head she fondly would aguize
With gaudy girlonds, or fresh flowrets dight
About her necke, or rings of rushes plight:
Sometimes, to do him laugh, she would assay
To laugh at shaking of the leaves light,
Or to behold the water worke and play
About her little frigot, therein making way.

Her light behaviour and loose dalliaunce
Gave wondrous great contentment to the knight,
That of his way he had no sovenaunce,
Nor care of vow'd revenge aud cruell fight;
But to weake wench did yield his martiall might.
So easie was to quench his flamed minde
With one sweete drop of sensual de ight!
So easie is t'appease the stormy winde
Of malice in the calme of peasaunt womankind!
Diverse discourses in their way they spent ;
Mongst which Cymochies of her questioned
Both what she was, and what that usage ment,
Which in her cott she daily practized:
"Vaine man," saide she, "that wouldest be reckoned
A straunger in thy home, and ignoraunt
Of Phædria, (for so my name is red)

Of Phædria, thine owne fellow servaúnt;

For thou to serve Acrasia thy selfe doest vaunt.

“In this wide inland sea, that hight by name
The Idle Lake, my wandring ship I row,
That knowes her port, and thether sayles by ayme,
Ne care ne feare I how the wind do blow,
Or whether swift I wend or whether slow:
Both slow and swift alike do serve my tourne;
Ne swelling Neptune ne lowd-thundring love
Can chaunge my cheare, or make me ever mourne:
My litle boat can safely passe this perilous bourne."

Whiles thus she talked, and whiles thus she toyd,
They were far past the passage which he spake,
And come unto an island waste and voyd,
That floted in the midst of that great lake;
There her small gondelay her port did make,
And that gay payre issewing on the shore
Disburdued her: their way they forward take
Into the land that lay them faire before,
Whose pleasaunce she him shewd, and plentifull
great store,
I

It was a chosen plott of fertile land,
Emongst wide waves sett, like a litle nest,
As if it had by Natures cunning hand
Bene choycely picked out from all the rest,
And laid forth for ensample of the best :
No daintie flowre or herbe that growes on grownd,
No arborett with painted blossomes drest
And smelling sweete, but there it might be fownd
To bud out faire, and her sweete smels throwe al
arownd.

No tree, whose braunches did not bravely spring;
No braunch, whereon a fine bird did not sitt;
No bird, but did her shrill notes sweetely sing;
No song, but did containe a lovely ditt.
Trees, braunches, birds, and songs, were framed fitt
For to allure fraile mind to carelesse ease.
Carelesse the man soone woxe, and his weake witt
Was overcome of thing that did him please:
So pleased did his wrathfull purpose faire appease.
Thus when shee had his eyes and sences fed
With false delights, and fild with pleasures vayn,
Into a shady dale she soft him led,
And layd him downe upon a grassy playn;
And her sweete selfe without dread or disdayn
She sett beside, laying his head disarmd
In her loose lap, it softly to sustayn,

Where soone he slumbred fearing not be harmd:

By this time was the worthy Guyon brought
Unto the other side of that wide strond
Where she was rowing, and for passage sought:
Him needed not long call; shee soone to hond
Her ferry brought, where him she byding fond
With his sad guide: himselfe she tooke aboord,
But the blacke palmer suffred still to stond,
Ne would for price or prayers once affoord
To ferry that old man over the perlous foord.

Guyon was loath to leave his guide behind,
Yet being entred might not backe retyre;
For the flitt barke, obaying to her mind,
Forth launched quickly as she did desire,
Ne gave him leave to bid that aged sire
Adieu, but nimbly ran her wonted course
Through the dull billowes thicke as troubled mire,
Whom nether wind out of their seat could forse,
Nor timely tides did drive out of theirsluggish sourse.

And by the way, as was her wonted guize,
Her mery fitt she freshly gan to reare,
And did of ioy and iollity devize,
Herselfe to cherish, and her guest to cheare.
The knight was courteous, and did not forbeare
Her honest merth and pleasaunce to partake;
But when he saw her toy, and gibe, and geare,
And passe the bonds of modest merimake,

The whiles with a love lay she thus him sweetly Her dalliaunce he despis'd and follies did forsake.

charmd :

"Behold, O man, that toilesome paines doest take,
The flowrs, the fields, and all that pleasaunt growes,
How they themselves doe thine ensample make,
Whiles nothing envious Nature them forth throwes
Out of her fruitfull lap; how, no man knowes,
They spring, they bud, they blossome fresh and faire,
And decke the world with their rich pompous showes;
Yet no man for them taketh paines or care,
Yet no man to them can his carefull paines compare.

"The lilly, lady of the flowring field,
The flowre-deluce, her lovely paramoure,
Bid thee to them thy fruitlesse labors yield,
And soone leave off this toylsome weary stoure:
Loe! loe, how brave she decks her bounteous boure,
With silkin curtens and gold coverletts,
Therein to shrowd her sumptuous belamoure!
Yet nether spinnes nor cards, ne cares nor fretts,
But to her mother nature all her care she letts.

"Why then doest thou, O man, that of them all
Art lord, and eke of nature soveraine,
Wilfully make thyselfe a wretched thrall,
And waste thy joyous howres in needelesse paine,
Seeking for daunger and adventures vaine?
What bootes it al to have and nothing use?
Who shall him rew that swimming in the maine
Will die for thrist, and water doth refuse? [chuse."
Refuse such fruitlesse toile, and present pleasures

By this she had him lulled fast asleepe,
That of no worldly thing he care did take:
Then she with liquors strong his eies did steepe,
That nothing should him hastily awake.
So she him lefte, and did herselfe betake
Unto her boat again, with which she clefte
The slouthfuil wave of that great griesy lake:
Soone shee that island far behind her lefte, [wefte.
And now is come to that same place where first she

Yet she still followed her former style,
And said, and did, all that mote him delight,
Till they arrived in that pleasaunt ile,
Where sleeping late she lefte her other knight.
But, whenas Guyon of that land had sight,
He wist himselfe amisse, and angry said;
"Ah! dame, perdy ye have not doen me right,
Thus to mislead mee, whiles I you obaid:
Me litle needed from my right way to have straid."

"Faire sir," quoth she, "be not displeasd at all;
Who fares on sea may not commaund his way,
Ne wind and weather at his pleasure call:
The sea is wide, and easy for to stray;
The wind unstable, and doth never stay.
But here a while ye may in safety rest,
Till season serve new passage to assay:
Better safe port then be in seas distrest."
Therewith she laught, and did her earnest end in

[iest

But he, halfe discontent, mote náthëlesse
Himselfe appease, and issewd forth on shore:
The joyes whereof and happy fruitfulnesse,
Such as he saw, she gan him lay before,
And all, though pleasaunt, yet she made much

more.

The fields did laugh, the flowres did freshly spring,
The trees did bud, and early blossomes bore;
And all the quire of birds did sweetly sing,
And told that gardins pleasures in their caroling.

And she, more sweete then any bird on bough,
Would oftentimes emongst them beare a part,
And strive to passé (as she could well enough)
Their native musicke by her skilful art:
So did she all, that might his constant hart
Withdraw from thought of warlike enterprize,
And drowne in dissolute delights apart,
Where noise of armes, or vew of martiall guize,
Might not revive desire of knightly exercize;

But he was wise, and wary of her will,
And ever held his hand upon his hart;
Yet would not seeme so rude, and thewed ill,
As to despise so curteous seeming part
That gentle lady did to him impart:
But, fairly tempring, fond desire subdewd,
And ever her desired to depart.

She list not heare, but her disports poursewd,
And ever bad him stay till time the tide renewd.

And now by this Cymochles howre was spent,
That he awoke out of his ydle dreme;
And, shaking off his drowsy dreriment,
Gan him avize, howe ill did him beseme
In slouthfull sleepe his molten hart to steme,
And quench the brond of his conceived yre.
Tho up he started, stird with shame extreme,
Ne staied for his damsell to inquire,

But marched to the strond, there passage to require.

And in the way he with sir Guyon mett,
Accompanyde with Phædria the faire:
Eftsoones he gan to rage, and inly frett,
Crying; "Let be that lady debonaire,

Thou recreaunt knight, and soone thyselfe prepaire
To batteile, if thou meane her love to gayn.
Loe! loe already how the fowles in aire
Doe flocke, awaiting shortly to obtayn

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"But, if for me ye fight, or me will serve,
Not this rude kynd of battaill, nor these armes
Are meet, the which doe men in bale to sterve,
And doolefull sorrowe heape with deadly harmes :
Such cruell game my scarmoges disarmes.
Another warre, and other weapons, I
Doe love, where Love does give his sweet alarmes
Without bloodshed, and where the enimy
Does yield unto his foe a pleasaunt victory.

"Debatefull strife, and cruell enmity,
The famous name of knighthood fowly shend;
But lovely peace, and gentle amity,
And in amours the passing howres to spend,
The mightie martiall handes doe most commend;
Of love they ever greater glory bore
Then of their armes : Mars is Cupidoes frend,

Thy carcas for their pray, the guerdon of thy payn." And is for Venus loves renowmed more

And there-withall he fiersly at him flew,
And with impórtune outrage him assayld;
Who, soone prepard to field, his sword forth drew,
And him with equall valew countervayld:
Their mightie strokes their haberieons dismayld,
And naked made each others manly spalles;
The mortall steele despiteously entayld
Deepe in their flesh, quite through the yron walles,
That a large purple streame adown their giambeux
falles.

Cymochles, that had never mett before
So puissant foe, with envious despight
His prowd presumed force increased more,
Disdeigning to bee held so long in fight.
Sir Guyon, grudging not so much his might
As those unknightly raylinges which he spoke,
With wrathfull fire his corage kindled bright,
Thereof devising shortly to be wroke,

And doubling all his powres redoubled every stroke.

Both of them high attonce their hands enhaunst,
And both attonce their huge blowes down did sway:
Cymochles sword on Guyons shield yglaunst,
And thereof nigh one quarter sheard away:
But Gayons angry blade so fiers did play
On th' others helmett, which as Titan shone,
That quite it clove his plumed crest in tway,
And bared all his head unto the bone; [stone.
Where-with astonisht still he stood as sencelesse

Still as he stood, fayre Phædria, that beheld
That deadly daunger, soone atweene them ran;
And at their feet herselfe most humbly feld,
Crying with pitteous voyce, and count'nance wan,
"Ah, well away! most noble lords, how can
Your cruell eyes endure so pitteous sight,
To shed your lives on ground? Wo worth the man,
That first did teach the cursed steele to bight
In his owne flesh, and make way to the living spright!

[yore. Then all his wars and spoiles, the which he did of

[bent

Therewith she sweetly smyld. They, though full
To prove extremities of bloody fight,
Yet at her speach their rages gan relent,
And calme the sea of their tempestuous spight:
Such powre have pleasing wordes! Such is the might
Of courteous clemency in gentle hart!
Now after all was ceast, the Faery knight
Besought that damzell suffer him depart,
And yield him ready passage to that other part.

She no lesse glad then he desirous was
Of his departure thence; for of her ioy
And vaine delight she saw he light did pas,
A foe of folly and immodest toy,

Still solemne sad, or still disdainfull coy;
Delighting all in armes and cruell warre,
That her sweet peace and pleasures did annoy,
Troubled with terrour and unquiet iarre,
That she well pleased was thence to amove him farre.

Tho him she brought abord, and her swift bote
Forthwith directed to that further strand;
The which on the dull waves did lightly flote,
And soone arrived on the shallow sand,
Where gladsome Guyon salied forth to land,
And to that damsell thankes gave for reward.
Upon that shore he spyed Atin stand,
There by his maister left, when late he far'd
In Phædrias flitt barck over that perlous shard.

Well could he him remember, sith of late
He with Pyrochles sharp debatement made;
Streight gan he him revyle, and bitter rate,
As shepheardes curre, that in darke eveninges shade
Hath tracted forth some salvage beastes trade:

66

Vile miscreaunt," said he, "whether dost thou flye The shame and death, which will thee soone invade? What coward hand shall doe thee next to dye, That art thus fowly fledd from famous enimy ?"

With that he stifly shooke his steelhead dart:
But sober Guyou hearing him so rayle,
Though somewhat moved in his mightie hart,
Yet with strong reason maistred passion fraile,
And passed fayrely forth: he, turning taile,
Backe to the strond retyrd, and there still stayd,
Awaiting passage, which him late did faile;
The whiles Cymochles with that wanton mayd
The hasty heat of his avowd revenge delayd.

Whylest there the varlet stood, he saw from farre
An armed knight that towardes him fast ran;
He ran on foot, as if in lucklesse warre
His forlorne steed from him the victour wan:
He seemed breathlesse, hartlesse, faint, and wan;
And all his armour sprinckled was with blood,
And soyld with durtie gore, that no man can
Discerne the hew thereof: he never stood,
But bent his hastie course towardes the Ydle flood.

The varlet saw, when to the flood he came
How without stop or stay he fiersly lept,
And deepe himselfe beducked in the same,
That in the lake his loftie crest was stept,
Ne of his safetie seemed care he kept;
But with his raging armes he rudely flasht
The waves about, and all his armour swept,
That all the blood and filth away was washt;
Yet still he bet the water, and the billowes dasht.

Atin drew nigh to weet what it mote bee;
For much he wondred at that uncouth sight:
Whom should he but his own deare lord there see,
His owne deare lord Pyrochles in sad plight,
Ready to drowne himselfe for fell despight:
"Harrow now, out and well away!" he cryde,
"What dismall day hath lent this cursed light,
To see my lord so deadly damnifyde?
Pyrochles, O Pyrochles, what is thee betyde?"

"I burne, I burne, I burne," then lowd he cryde,
"O how I burne with implacable fyre!
Yet nought can quench mine inly flaming syde,
Nor sea of licour cold, nor lake of myre;
Nothing but death can doe me to respyre."
"Ah! be it," said he, " from Pyrochles farre
After pursewing death once to requyre,
Orthink, that ought those puissant hands may marre,
Death is for wretches borne under unhappy starre."

"Perdye, then is it fitt for me," said he,
"That am, I weene, most wretched man alive;
Burning in flames, yet no flames can I see,
And, dying dayly, dayly yet revive:
O Atin, helpe to me last death to give!"
The varlet at his plaint was grievd so sore,
That his deepe-wounded hart in two did rive;
And, his owne health remembring now no more,
Did follow that ensample which he blam'd afore.

Into the lake he lept his lord to ayd,
(So love the dread of daunger doth despise)
And, of him catching hold, him strongly stayd
From drowning; but more happy he then wise
Of that seas nature did him not avise:
The waves thereof so slow and sluggish were,
Engrost with mud which did them fowle agrise,
That every weighty thing they did upbeare,
Ne ought mote ever sinck downe to the bottom
there.

Whyles thus they strugled in that Ydle wave,
And strove in vaine, the one himselfe to drowne,
The other both from drowning for to save;
Lo! to that shore one in an auncient gowne,
Whose hoary locks great gravitie did crowne,
Holding in hand a goodly arming sword,
By fortune came, ledd with the troublous sowne:
Where drenched deepe he fownd in that dull ford
The carefull servaunt stryving with his raging lord.

Him Atin spying knew right well of yore,
And lowdly cald; "Help! helpe, O Archimage,
To save my lord in wretched plight forlore;
Helpe with thy hand, or with thy counsell sage:
Weake handes, but counsell is most strong in age."
Him when the old man saw, he woundred sore
To see Pyrochles there so rudely rage:
Yet sithens helpe, he saw, he needed more
Then pitty, he in hast approched to the shore.

And cald; "Pyrochles, what is this I see?
What hellish fury hath at earst thee hent?
Furious ever I thee knew to bee,

Yet never in this straunge astonishment."
"These flames, these flames," he cryde, "doe me
torment!"

"What flames," quoth he, "when I thee present see
In daunger rather to be drent then brent?"
"Harrow! the flames which me consume," said he,
"Ne can be quencht, within my secret bowelles bee.

"That cursed man, that cruel feend of Hell,
Furor, oh! Furor hath me thus bedight:
His deadly woundes within my liver swell,
And his whott fyre burnes in mine entralles bright,
Kindled through his infernall brond of spight,
Sith late with him I batteill vaine would boste;
That now I weene loves dreaded thunder-light
Does scorch not halfe so sore, nor damned ghoste
In flaming Phlegeton does not so felly roste."

Which whenas Archimago heard, his griefe
He knew right well, and him attonce disarm'd:
Then searcht his secret woundes, and made a priefe
Of every place that was with bruzing harmd,
Or with the hidden fier inly warmd.
Which doen, he balmes and herbes thereto applyde,
And evermore with mightie spels them charmd;
That in short space he has them qualifyde, [dyde.
And him restord to helth, that would have algates

CANTO VII.

Guyon findes Mammon in a delve
Sunning his threasure hore;
Is by him tempted, and led downe
To see his secrete store.

As pilot well expert in perilous wave,
That to a stedfast starre his course hath bent,
When foggy mistes or cloudy tempests have
The faithfull light of that faire lampe yblent,
And cover'd Heaven with hideous dreriment;
Upon his card and compas firmes his eye,
The maysters of his long experiment,
And to them does the steddy helme apply,
Bidding his winged vessell fairely forward fly:

So Guyon having lost his trustie guyde,
Late left beyond that Ydle Lake, proceedes
Yet on his way, of none accompanyde;
And evermore himselfe with comfort feedes
Of his own vertues and praise-worthie deedes.
So, long he yode, yet no adventure found,
Which Fame of her shrill trompet worthy reedes:
For still he traveild through wide wastfull ground,
That nought but desert wildernesse shewd all around.

At last he came unto a gloomy glade,

"Wherefore if me thou deigne to serve and sew,
At thy commaund lo! all these mountainės bee:
Or if to thy great mind, or greedy vew,
All these may not suffise, there shall to thee
Ten times so much be nombred francke and free."
"Mammon," said he, "thy godheads vaunt is vaine,
And idle offers of thy golden fee;

To them that covet such eye-glutting gaine
Proffer thy giftes, and fitter servaunts entertaine.
"Me ill befits, that in derdoing armes

Cover'd with boughes and shrubs from Heavens light, And honours suit my vowed daies do spend,

Whereas he sitting found in secret shade
An uncouth, salvage, and uncivile wight,
Of griesly hew and fowle ill-favour'd sight;

His face with smoke was tand, and eics were bleard,
His head and beard with sout were ill bedight,

His cole-blacke hands did seeme to have ben seard la smythes fire-spitting forge, and nayles like clawes appeard.

His yron cote, all overgrowne with rust,
Was underneath enveloped with gold;
Whose glistring glosse, darkned with filthy dust,
Well yet appeared to have beene of old
A worke of rich entayle and curious mould,
Woven with antickes and wyld ymagery:
And in his lap a masse of coyne he told,
And turned upside downe, to feede his eye
And covetous desire with his huge threasury.

And round about him lay on every side
Great heapes of gold that never could be spent ;
Of which some were rude owre, not purifide
Of Mulcibers devouring element;
Some others were new driven, and distent
Into great ingowes and to wedges square;
Some in round plates withouten moniment:
But most were stampt, and in their metal bare
The antique shapes of kings and Kesars straung

and rare.

Soone as he Guyon saw, in great affright
And haste he rose for to remove aside
Those pretious hils from straungers envious sight,
And downe them poured through an hole full wide
Into the hollow earth, them there to hide:
Bat Gayon, lightly to him leaping, stayd
His hand that trembled as oue terrifyde;
And though himselfe were at the sight dismayd,
Yet him perforce restraynd, and to him doubtfull
sayd;

"What art thou, man, (if man at all thou art)
That here in desert hast thine habitaunce,
And these rich hils of welth doest bide apart
From the worldes eye, and from her right usaunce?"
Thereat, with staring eyes fixed askaunce,
In great disdaine he answerd; "Hardy Elfe,
That darest view my direful countenaunce!
I read thee rash and heedlesse of thyselfe, [pelfe.
To trouble my still seate and heapes of pretious

"God of the world and worldlings I me call,
Great Mammon, greatest god below the skye,
That of my plenty poure out unto all,
And unto none my graces do envye:.
Riches, renowme, and principality,
Honour, estate, and all this worldës good,
For which men swinck and sweat incessantly,
Fro me do flow into an ample flood,

And in the hollow earth have their eternall brood.

Unto thy bounteous baytes and pleasing charmes,
With which weake men thou witchest, to attend;
And low abase the high heroicke spright,
Regard of worldly mucke doth fowly blend

That ioyes for crownes and kingdomes to contend: Faire shields, gay steedes, bright armes, be my delight;

Those be the riches fit for an advent'rous knight."

"Vaine glorious Elfe," saide he, "doest not thou
That money can thy wantes at will supply? [weet
Shields, steeds, and armes, and all things for thee
It can purvay in twinckling of an eye; [meet,
And crownes and kingdomes to thee multiply.
Do not I kings create, and throw the crowne
Sometimes to him that low in dust doth ly,
And him that raignd into his rowme thrust downe;
And, whom I lust, do heape with glory and renowne?"

"All otherwise," saide he, "I riches read,
And deeme them roote of all disquietnesse;
First got with guile, and then preserv'd with dread
And after spent with pride and lavishnesse,
Leaving behind them griefe and heavinesse :
Infinite mischiefes of them doe arize;
Strife and debate, bloodshed and bitternesse,
Outrageous wrong and hellish covetize;
That noble heart, as great dishonour, doth despize.

"Ne thine be kingdomes, ne the scepters thine;
But realmes and rulers thou doest both confound,
And loyall truth to treason doest incline:
Witnesse the gailtlesse blood pourd oft on ground;
The crowned often slaine; the slayer cround;
The sacred diademe in peeces rent;

And purple robe gored with many a wound;
Castles surprizd; great cities sackt and brent:
So mak'st thou kings, and gaynest wrongfull go-
vernment!

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